


kicking-AWOL

by InPrisonForSparkling



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Unwind Dystology - Neal Shusterman, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Clay | Dream is Called Clay (Video Blogging RPF), Crossover, Dream's 16 and George is 17 because their actual age gap would be weird, M/M, Running Away, they're both teenagers in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InPrisonForSparkling/pseuds/InPrisonForSparkling
Summary: Clay knows why his parents signed the Unwind order. That only makes it worse.George is a StaHo kid. He's nothing special, which made it an easy decision for his caretakers to Unwind him.Everyone tells them that Unwinding isn't dying. Both of them, seperately, come to a conclusion: if you're notyouanymore, if all of your parts have become those of other people, then it might as well be death.(You don't need to read Unwind or the sequels to understand this fanfic, as I'm just taking the setting and using it. However, they're good books and I recommend you read them!)
Relationships: Background Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 32





	1. Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who hasn't read the Unwind books, here's a basic summary of what Unwinding is:  
> "Unwinding is a form of retroactive abortion that allows parents to give their children over to the government after the age of 13 to have their bodies dismembered and donated to those who need transplants. Teenagers who escape and are not unwound by their eighteenth birthday can live the rest of their lives in peace."  
> i got that off Google lmao. anyways, they take down that system in the actual books, but i won't do that here. hope you enjoy reading!

Clay's breaths were heavy as he pressed himself against the door of the bathroom.

_What the fuck. What the fuck. What is going on._

His thoughts were racing. _Why would they do this, I- I thought-_

He was going to be Unwound.

_No no no no no no this can't happen. I have to convince them- I can't-_

Then he heard his mother sigh, "I'm just glad we got the order signed."

Fuck.

Clay felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he wiped them away angrily. What had he ever done to deserve this?

He realized, then, that he knew what he'd done. That hurt more than the knowledge that his parents had signed the order.

The Juvey-cops would be coming soon. There was only one option, really.

Clay had to kick-AWOL.

He'd never have thought he was the type. Then again, he never thought he'd get sent off to be Unwound, and he was incredibly stubborn.

 _Fuck_ , this was so unfair! Why? Why?!

He wanted to burst out of the bathroom, shout at his parents, say those words that he'd never really meant before. "I hate you."

And he did hate them. He hated them for giving into the fucking peer pressure, the propaganda, the posters all over everywhere saying things like "Unwinding is painless and helps everyone. Have a dysfunctional teen? Ask your local National Juvenile Authority station about Unwinding!"

But he didn't even talk to them. He just quietly made his way to his bedroom once his parents had left the hallway.

Clay didn't stop the tears now. He just wanted to live his life. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was.

"Guess I have to pack now, huh," he muttered. He stared at his phone for a few seconds before shaking his head. Too risky- they might track him.

Clay let out a mirthless laugh. "Thinking like a criminal already. Well, I legally don't exist, so might as well."

It was a little surprising to him how little he actually had to pack. He couldn't really take much, considering his circumstances, but even despite that he realized how few of the things he owned were of consequence.

In the end, all he took was his bag, some food, a first-aid kit and his childhood plushie. He couldn't bear to leave it behind.

It was a stupid little thing, a vaguely person-shaped blob with a smiley face on it. He'd called it Dream, and couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

He hugged it, put it in the bag, and climbed out of his window.

Clay wandered the streets, keeping to the shadows. It was a dark night, and no one else even knew he was meant to be Unwound, but he decided to be careful anyway.

He had no idea where he was even going, but at least it wouldn't be to a harvest camp.

Hopefully.


	2. George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adhd brain said "GeorgeNotFound,, 404,, Error, nope, sounds too much like Error!Sans,, oooh Fallacy!" and that's how i got the name.

George sat on his bed, holding a piece of paper.

He wasn't supposed to find it, but he was always good with secrets, with stealing and subterfuge. It was the only thing he'd ever really been good at.

The paper was an Unwind order, signed in triplicate. The one he was holding was pink- at least, he thought it was, he couldn't be sure- which meant it was for the State Home to keep, while George Ward was sent to be Unwound. It made him feel sick.

George's only talents were the bad ones, the ones that StaHo officials couldn't use. So obviously he'd be one of the unlucky few wards to be sent to harvest camp.

Honestly, he was a little surprised it had taken them this long.

George Ward did not want to "enter the divided state", thank you very much. He just wanted to stay alive and whole and if that meant disappearing, fine. If that meant becoming a criminal, fine!

George knew when to run- you never lasted long in a StaHo if you didn't know when to run- and it was _definitely_ time to run.

He didn't have many belongings- a satchel, his clout goggles, and a water purifier that he didn't remember getting, plus some money he stole a while back.

The last thing he did before leaving was to pin up the Unwind order to his door and write "No one wants these eyes, trust me" directly on top of the signature.

It might have meant they'd come looking for him sooner, but he wanted them to know that he'd outsmarted them. He'd stolen the order, and it meant he was less likely to be killed. Win-win.

And then George ran.

He ran as fast and as far as he could, satchel swinging behind him, goggles clasped securely around his face, and he laughed. Because how ridiculous was it that his continuous escape attempt from a certain death could have been the most free he'd ever felt?

One year. One year, and he'd be really and truly free.

* * *

George had started to introduce himself as Fallacy. He didn't trust the other AWOLs and the sympathizers of said AWOLs with his real name, so he'd decided to use an alias. It was going fine so far.

Tommy, a fellow AWOL who was probably only 13, poor kid, had become the closest thing George had to a friend at the moment. They both knew that they were staying in the same abandoned house only out of neccessity, and the moment they saw an oppurtunity, both would jump ship. It was unwise to stay in the same place for too long, George learned; otherwise the Juvey-cops would sniff you out and send you off to the nearest harvest camp.

"Why do you use that name? Fallacy?" Tommy asked one night when neither could sleep. "It can't be your real one."

George shrugged. "I don't trust anyone with my real name. Even if they're genuinely good people, I'm sure the Juvey-cops have away to weasel out something so simple as a name."

Tommy groaned. "Fuck, you're right! Wish I'd thought of that."

George laughed. "Don't worry, Tommy, your name is way more common than mine. Besides, your _legal_ name could be anything from Thomas to Tom and no one would know."

Tommy grinned. "Thanks, man. You're damn good at this."

"Only because I have to be," George reminded him. "And you're only good at it because you have to be, too."

Tommy's grin disappeared. "I'm no good at all."

"You wouldn't be alive if you were no good at it."

"Don't you mean I'd be 'in the divided state'?"

George feigned shock. "My goodness! I completely forgot that every part of an Unwind stays alive, but their conciousness obviously disappears, so they're obviously not dead. My bad."

Tommy burst out laughing.


	3. Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently Ranboo actually did get hit by a ball once and can unhinge his jaw  
> comment for a warm internet hug

Clay was tired.

He was tired and hungry and his clothes were dirty and torn.

It'd been five weeks since he kicked-AWOL.

He just wanted everything to be how it had been. He wished he could go home. He wished his parents had never signed that fucking piece of paper.

But it wasn't, he couldn't, and they had, all of which ended up with him here. On the streets of nowhere, because every city, town, road he'd been on was blurring together.

He had recently acquired a travelling companion. The kid had introduced himself as Ranboo and asked Clay's name.

Clay had almost told him, before thinking better of it, and decided on "It's not my real name, but you can call me Dream."

Ranboo had smiled. He smiled almost too wide, honestly, but Clay had seen creepier people. "Okay, Dream."

Over the next few days, the two wandered all over. Clay learnt that Ranboo was from a StaHo, didn't know his age but was around 14 or 15, and had been hit by a ball once and could therefore unhinge his jaw. Clay told Ranboo about his favorite books, things he liked to cook, even the story of the little plushie he'd taken the name of. Things were friendly, and talking distracted both of them from their thoughts.

One night, when they'd just decided to keep walking, Ranboo asked, "You ever wonder what it was like before Unwinding?"

Clay shrugged. "Sometimes. Why?"

"I just..." Ranboo sighed. "How would it feel to be... I don't know, safe? How was it before there was the constant threat of the Juvies? What was it like to not see propaganda about how you should send your child off to be torn apart?"

Clay stopped walking, then.

"I think it was probably a better time," Clay said carefully.

Ranboo stopped walking, too, and stared at him, face showing an emotion Clay couldn't quite put a name to. "Well, then, here's another question. Would you rather be Unwound or die?"

Clay searched for a response, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "They're the same thing, really, aren't they?" he finally said, voice almost a whisper. "But if I had to choose, death. I don't want to be forgotten, just a piece of someone else."

Ranboo nodded. "That's a good answer. Thanks, Dream."

Come morning, they didn't speak of their conversation the previous night. They just kept walking.

* * *

A few days later, and Clay was alone again.

It wasn't a fight. No one had been taken by the Juvey-cops.

They just ended up on different roads, and Clay had learnt in his short time as an AWOL that sometimes, that happened. Sometimes you lost friends. You just had to deal with it.

Clay never had been good at that.

So he was preoccupied, far too much so to care that the seemingly abandoned caravan in front of him was too good to be true. And he didn't notice how unnaturally lucky it was that it was fully stocked with food.

And then he heard a muffled scream, and a door opening, and by the time he'd spun around to check the door, something was piercing the skin of his neck.

A little voice in his head screamed _tranq dart, TRANQ DART, THE JUVIES FOUND YOU_ , and Clay struggled to keep his eyes open. He really tried.

The door was open, an he could see a shadowy figure climbing the stairs to it. Typical.

He felt himself dropping to his knees, but it felt distant. As if he wasn't all there.

He looked up to see the figure come through the door.

They looked...

They looked like a _twink_.

Clay chuckled as he slumped to the ground. "...Bit young for a Juvey-cop, aren't you?"

He heard the stranger shouting something, felt them lift him off the ground, but everything was so hazy now and he couldn't make out their words or see their face.

And he fell unconscious in the stranger's arms.


	4. George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i always make everything ensemble-cast. the characters are just too fun to write i'm sORRY  
> comment for a pat on the head

George stared at the young man unconscious in his arms.

Okay, _maybe_ the tranq dart had been a little extreme, but George had seen a tall, strong-looking stranger in his caravan and he'd panicked, assuming the worst.

Most of the time, that was a good reflex. It'd saved his life before, and would probably continue to do so.

But as George examined the stranger a little more closely, he realized that this odd young man far from a Juvey-cop. He looked young, probably George's age, and he was _ridiculously_ dishevelled, hair knotted and clothes torn.

_He's an AWOL,_ George realized, still staring at the stranger.

He shook him gently. "Hey. Wake up, I'm not a Juvey."

The stranger mumbled something like "'M tired, dad, don' wanna go to school..."

George felt a wave of pity for this strange AWOL. He still thought he was at home. "I'm not your dad."

The stranger opened one eye slightly. "Oh yeah. My dad's not a twink..."

George let out a surprised laugh. "I- a _twink_?"

The stranger chuckled, closing his eyes again. "Mhm. Twinky boy... why're you in the Juvies if you're such a twink?"

"I- I am not a _twink_ ," George spluttered. "And I'm not a Juvey-cop, either."

"Then why'd you tranq me?" the stranger said smugly, as if he'd somehow won an argument. Then his eyes snapped open. "Wait. Fuck. You _tranq'd_ me."

George raised an eyebrow. "Took you long enough to figure that out."

The stranger looked at him suspiciously. "...You don't look like a Juvey-cop."

George sighed with frustration. "I'm not one. That's what I've been telling you."

The stranger laughed. It sounded like a tea kettle. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Sorry!"

" _Anyway_ ," George said, wanting to change the subject, "what's your name?"

The stranger hesitated, then replied, "You can call me Dream."

"You can call me Fallacy, then." George raised an eyebrow. "Are you an AWOL, too?"

Dream pulled his bag over his shoulders. "Yep. This your caravan? Nice place."

"Well, yes, it is mine in that I live here," George began, rubbing the back of his neck, "but actually, it's owned by this guy who calls himself Quackity. Everyone knows his name is Alex, but we call him Quackity anyways. He owns a bunch of these caravans because he got them cheap at various shady places, and lets fellow AWOLs live in them for the low price of getting him food and other neccessities, which he also shares with the rest of us."

"Sounds like a pretty good deal," Dream admitted.

George nodded. "It is. I could ask him if you're allowed to join us?"

"Please?" Dream said quietly. "Running constantly isn't really my thing."

And, well, now George just _had_ to talk to Quackity about it. Because he recognized that look in Dream's eyes; he recognized it from glimpses of himself in car windows and shop doors. It was a look that spoke of burnt-out confidence and barely concealed fear.

It was a look that said "I'm tired. I just want to go home."

"I- I'll talk to him," George confirmed, awkwardly putting a reassuring (he hoped) hand on Dream's shoulder. "You can stay in my caravan for now, while you wait- uh, just take the top bunk. I never use it anyway."

Dream nodded gratefully. "Thank you."


	5. Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you've read the Unwind books, you may notice something about the way Ranboo is talking.... ;)

Clay sighed, snuggling further into his blankets. He had missed sleeping in a bed.

"What's that little plushie?" Fallacy asked, coming out of the bathroom where he'd changed into pyjamas. Clay hadn't needed it. He had forgotten pyjamas- he didn't think he'd use them, so it was the same ripped-up clothes he'd been wearing when he kicked-AWOL..

"Oh, this?" Clay lifted up Dream the plushie. "It's a toy I've had for as long as I can remember. I named it Dream ages ago- before you ask, yes, that is where I got the nickname from- and I couldn't bear to leave it behind when I kicked-AWOL."

Fallacy was quiet for a moment, then he said, "It's nice that you have something that special."

Clay raised an eyebrow, though he knew Fallacy couldn't see him. "You don't?"

Fallacy sighed. "Nope. Nothing. I was a StaHo kid, no one ever thought to give me anything like that."

Clay felt a sudden urge to hug Fallacy. "You want me to, uh, get you anything? Maybe?"

"Why're you asking?" Fallacy's tone was playful, but it sounded a little forced.

Clay coughed awkwardly. "It's just, you- you seem like you need a hug, kinda."

No response.

Then Fallacy said, very quietly, "A hug would be nice."

So Clay climbed down into Fallacy's bed and hugged him. God, it'd been a long time since he'd touched another human being. Was that what people meant by "touch starved"?

Fallacy froze for half a second, then he hugged Clay, too.

They stayed like that for a while. Neither said anything about it the next morning.

* * *

"Okay, Big Q should be awake by now," Fallacy muttered, tying his laces. "You stay here. Turn off the lights and lock the door, and if anyone who isn't me tries to come in, tranq them- it _could_ be a friend, but on the off chance that it's not, better to be safe than sorry. Anyone who I know would understand, anyway."

Clay nodded, making sure the safety was on the tranq gun before picking it up.

"Alright." Fallacy stood up and smiled at him. "Good luck, Dream, stay safe."

"Thank you," Clay told him.

Nobody came for a while.

Then, there was a quiet knock on the door. Clay quickly glanced out of the window to see who it was.

That wasn't a Juvey-cop. That was Ranboo!

Clay opened the door. " _Ranboo_! What are you doing here?"

Ranboo glanced behind him nervously. "Minotaur," he said, then shook his head. "No, I mean- I'm trying to escape. But it's like the Labyrinth, it seems impossible."

"Escape what? The Juvies?" Clay raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, we're all trying to-"

Ranboo shook his head vigurously and squeezed his eyes shut. "Try again! Wrong answer! No, no, I mean- not the Juvies!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, Ranboo-"

"Nightmares!" Ranboo shouted, curling in on himself slightly. "Horror movies! Jumpscare- _scared!_ "

"Okay, you're scared," Clay said. "I get that, listen, let's just-"

"Dream?" Fallacy asked, coming out from the forest with another person who Clay assumed was Quackity. "Who is that?"

"He's a friend," Clay said quickly. "He seems really scared of something-"

"Lady and the tiger! Circus monkey!" Ranboo interrupted unhelpfully. "Zoo?"

Quackity drew in a breath. "I think he's trying to say 'cage'."

Ranboo's eyes widened. "Green light! Checkmark!"

"You're scared of being trapped?" Fallacy asked, eyebrow raised."

"He said it wasn't the Juvey-cops he's scared of," Clay added.

"Dream," Quackity said slowly, "do you know who this is?"


	6. Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beloved is Ranboo's last name and you cannot change my mind on this.

Fallacy glanced from Clay to Ranboo and back again. He looked confused.

"He's... he's just Ranboo, isn't he?" Clay asked, hating the desperation in his voice. Once, just _once_ , he wanted to keep something good in his life. "The StaHo kid who can unhinge his jaw because he was hit in the face with a ball once. Right?"

Ranboo stared at his shoes.

"Not... not exactly," Quackity admitted. "Look a little closer at his face."

So Clay did.

And what he saw made him feel a little sick.

Ranboo's skin had seams on it. Perfect, well-concealed seams. The skin tones were almost perfectly matched, but they varied just enough to be obvious once you'd noticed them.

Clay stepped back. What the fuck. What did this mean.

All he managed to say, voice cracking, was a quiet "What...?"

"String," Ranboo said softly, regretfully. "Wind-up toy. Patchwork."

"He's a Rewind," Quackity said with something like fear and sorrow in his voice. "He was put together from the parts of Unwinds."

"You..." Clay stared at Ranboo in disbelief. "You told me you were a StaHo kid."

Ranboo shrugged helplessly. "A couple of them were. Not technically a lie." He appeared to have calmed down somewhat, given that he was able to form sentences again.

"Oh god," Fallacy whispered.

Ranboo wouldn't meet Clay's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Clay didn't know what to say. Just now he noticed that one of Ranboo's eyes was green, while the other was a vivid red. And he'd thought that Ranboo just dyed his hair, but now he realized that one side was just... naturally white. God, this was so fucked.

"I don't blame _you_ , Ranboo, it's just..." Clay sighed. "Nevermind. Who're you running from, then?"

"My... my creators," Ranboo replied quietly. "I ran away. They're looking for me."

Quackity cleared his throat. "Well, I gotta admit, I didn't expect Ranboo Beloved to show up out of nowhere today, but... you need sanctuary? I got you. That caravan over there's got an extra bed, it has this 13-14ish AWOL and an ex-tithe around the same age. I'm sure you'll get along. Tell them I sent you."

Ranboo nodded and scurried off towards the van Quackity had pointed at.

Clay rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry about all this."

Quackity waved a hand dissmissively. "It's fine, made the day way more interesting." Then he smiled. "So you're Dream, huh? Yeah, you can stay. You and Fallacy keep sharing the bunk, alright?"

Fallacy nodded, already walking back over to Clay. "Sounds good."

"Cool. See ya!" Quackity waved goodbye, then ran back in the direction he came.

* * *

That night, Clay couldn't sleep.

He didn't have any idea of what time it was, but Fallacy was fast asleep in the bunk underneath him and that man had the most fucked sleep schedule Clay had ever seen, so it had to be _late_.

Some people had nightmares when they'd heard or seen something terrible. Clay just didn't sleep when that happened.

How had he never noticed? How had he never realized that something was up with Ranboo, and let the Rewind tell him in his own time, on his own terms?

God, it was way too late for this bullshit.

Clay wanted... he wanted...

He wanted everything to be fucking _normal_. He wanted to never have had to worry about the mere possibility of being Unwound, nevermind having to run away from home to avoid it.

Why'd he have to live in this world where Unwinding your child was an acceptable, even encouraged thing to do? Why couldn't anyone see how wrong all of this was?

Clay never wanted to se his parents again, but he did want to go home.


	7. Wilbur || Techno || George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking they might actually end up dismantling Unwinding. how? i have no goddamn idea, please tell me in the comments belo-

A boy sat in a run-down warehouse.

His arm ached. Scratch that, everything ached, but he'd get used to it.

Or not. It wouldn't matter.

The boy's name was Wilbur, and he was angry, as they all were. He was angry for reasons that no one else knew and that didn't matter to anyone else.

But they mattered to him. His _brothers_ , who were Unwound despite only ever trying their best, mattered to him.

Techno did nothing to deserve it. Tommy did nothing to deserve it. Wilbur did nothing to be the only one spared from that fate, but he had always been the golden child.

He smiled grimly. Oh, he was a golden boy, alright. The perfect little clapper boy.

* * *

Techno had not been Unwound.

Oh, they _tried_ to Unwind him, but things never quite work out like that.

Techno Blade never died, never lost, never walked away from a fight. And the Juvey-cops underestimated him.

He was eighteen now, beyond Unwinding age. He was safe from that, at he very least, but he never stopped running. Just in case.

Also, it was fun.

Besides, how could he ever want to go back to polite society, when he'd spent five years running from it? How could he just pretend everything was fine?

Because it wasn't. All this was fucked up in the worst way possible.

And hey, at least he had Phil out here. That man was a better dad than Techno's father had ever been.

* * *

George was, for once, making breakfast for two.

This was the first time he'd lived with someone else since Tommy was moved into the caravan with that ex-tithe, and George had to admit it was nice to have another human being in the house again.

Even if said human being slept in a lot. And snored loudly. And was kinda maybe just a _little_ bit attractive.

And George didn't even know his real name. Then again, he didn't know George's.

George shook his head. Nope. Thoughts bad. Make breakfast.

Then Dream walked in, finally in some cleaner clothes (Quackity had brought him a basketful and said 'take your pick'), his hair still as much of a mess as always.

And _fuck_ , he was cute.

"Mmm... g'mornin', Fallacy," Dream yawned, stretching his arms. "You makin' breakfast?"

"Yep," George replied, decidedly looking _away_ from Dream's freckles. Why did he have to have freckles.

Dream blinked groggily for a moment. "Smells good."

"I'm making pancakes," George informed him, trying desperately not to go into full Gay Panic Mode.

Dream's eyes immediately lit up at the word 'pancakes'. "Really?! Oh my god, I love pancakes, I haven't had them since I ran away!"

Well fuck. George was falling.

"Well- I, uh-" George scrambled for something to say- "I, uh, I love pancakes too."

Dream laughed- why did his laugh _sound_ like that, was he dying or something?- and put a hand on George's shoulder to steady himself. "Well, I mean, why else would you eat them?"

George groaned, totally not leaning into the touch. Nope. "I didn't know what else to say, okay? I'm bad at conversationing."

Dream raised an eyebrow. "Is that a word? I don't think that's a word."

"Shut up, it totally is," George insisted.

Dream shrugged and took his hand off of George. "Whatever. Keep making pancakes, I'm hungry."

George scoffed. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"But you're doing it anyways!" Dream pointed out with a wink, walking towards the bathroom, probably to change.

"Shut up, or you're not getting any pancakes," George teased, laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up!"


	8. Tubbo || Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tubbo!! :D

Tubbo was a little bit scared, he'd admit.

Well, how could he _not_ be? Ranboo was nice, polite and nervous, but he was made from murdered kids and nothing would ever change that.

It really had taken a long time for Tubbo to begin thinking of Unwinding as murder or even death. When he'd been a tithe, he'd been conditioned to believe that Unwinding was a holy ritual, and being in the divided state a spiritual adventure. He'd believed that he should freely give the greatest gift he had: himself.

Tommy had rescued him from that. Tubbo had been on his way to the harvest camp, sitting in the chauffeur van, and Tommy broke the window and dragged him out. Tubbo had screamed, kicked and fought, trying to escape, because he didn't yet realize that Tommy had saved him.

Eventually, Tommy had stopped his mad, directionless dash, and asked for Tubbo's help with building a shelter. Not ordered, _asked_ , which was Tubbo's first clue that maybe Tommy wasn't the bad guy. Tubbo helped out, because he didn't want Tommy or himself to freeze to death, and they never left each other's sides that night.

He and Tommy had been best friends ever since, but this Rewind was a new factor in their dynamic.

Tubbo didn't _want_ to be scared of Ranboo. He didn't ask to be born any more than Ranboo asked to be created, but he was scared, and Tommy was picking up on it and God knew how protective he could get..

It didn't matter. It'd be fine, everything would be fine.

* * *

Well, what the fuck was Clay supposed to do with that?

Fallacy was cute. Hot. Attractive. Whatever, it didn't matter, but Clay was still mightily confused about it considering he'd had no idea he liked boys that way. Like, what the fuck, universe, why'd you just spring this on him?

And Fallacy made the _best_ pancakes, which did not help matters. He also had the best laugh. And he was so adorable when he got excited about something. And he was so nice-

"Shut _up_ , brain," Clay groaned, curling further into himself in his bed. He was hugging Dream tight, because despite everything, that stupid toy still made him so happy.

This really was the definition of gay panic, huh? At least Fallacy wasn't there to watch.

Clay shook his head, deciding to get up. No point moping in bed all day and fantasizing about Fallacy saying his real nme, Fallacy's hands on his hips, Fallacy's lips on his- okay, no, that was the opposite of what he should be thinking about. Boring business transaction fantasies only for Clay.

Then, Clay heard a polite knock on the door. He went to investigate, but Fallacy had already let in a young man with the most colorful hoodie Clay had ever seen.

"Oh, hello!" the young man said cheerfully. "You must be Dream. I'm Karl, Quackity and Sapnap's fiance!" He held out a hand for Clay to shake.

"Hi, Karl," Clay replied, cautiously shaking Karl's hand. "Sorry for intruding, but, uh... AWOLs can get married?"

Karl laughed. "Well, who's going to stop us?"


End file.
